Drifting
by Another Lone Ranger
Summary: AU--They were both drifting, one from his past and one from her future, but they were brought together one night when he saved her life. Now everyone seems determined to keep them apart


A/N: Welcome, one and all, to the first chapter of my new Aoshi/Misao story. It's nothing amazing--another drama/romance. I've just been in a darkly romantic mood lately and this story came to my mind once again. This is something I've actually been pondering for months.

Anyway, special thanks to Vonna for letting me test my idea on her.

And on a personal note, I am looking for a beta reader--if you're interested in the position, leave me a review or you can e-mail me at the address on my bio. Enjoy the chapter!

Disclaimer: I own nothing Rurouni Kenshin--and pretty much nothing else for that matter. Only the ideas in my head an a tube of cookie dough.

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Drifting

Chapter 1

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"Home sweet home," Misao commented to herself as she drove down the long driveway of the estate. Had it been the truth, she would have smiled. Had it been a joke, she would have laughed. Since it was somewhere in between, she retained her pensive expression.

There was a wrought iron arch over the beginning of the driveway that read proudly for all to see, "Aoiya". That was the name of the estate. All the land as far as the eye could see. The estate that Misao would inherit upon the passing of her grandfather. Somehow, that made her feel even more miserable than she had been when she first began the long drive from her college campus that morning.

Misao Makimachi, college graduate as of three days ago, was returning to her home for the summer in the hopes of discovering what she was going to do with the rest of her life now that her education was complete. This was no easy task, to say the least. Especially considering Misao had no idea what she wanted to do with the rest of her life. All she knew was that she had no where else to go but the Aoiya.

Her old pick-up truck bounced over the potholes in the dirt drive, just like they always had, making her hop in her seat a few times. Once more, Misao wondered why, with all the money he had, her grandfather had never just paved his expansive driveway. Then again, it was always better not to ask, since she really had no interest in hearing another lecture on the state of the economy.

Instead, Misao just drove in silence, having turned off the radio when she turned into the drive. It was best not to have _Puddle of Mudd _blaring through her car speakers as she entered the large estate, or she'd run the risk of insulting both the aristocratic visitors and the animals.

The Aoiya did indeed have plenty of both.

This was, by no means, an ordinary estate. The Aoiya and everything on it belonged to Okina Makimachi, one of the richest men in the state. His land, an impressive ranch of more than a square mile, was actually all attributed to a large and lavished hotel that bore the title name of the land. It was a country estate, where the rich could come to ride horses, play golf, and relax on their weekends. Not only was the land enchantingly beautiful, it was also only an hour's drive from the city, which made it a very popular getaway.

Misao had never liked the hotel, personally. She found it stuffy and frightfully dull, but it was her grandfather's pride and joy, and it was the only home she had ever truly had since the death of her parents. So to the Aoiya Hotel she drove, same as she did every summer since she started college, to work away her free days in the restaurant.

The truth was that her grandfather wanted Misao to take over the Aoiya eventually, but the twenty-two year-old woman had serious doubts as to whether she really wanted to run a hotel-estate. That was another reason for her coming home, to give this life another chance, to see if she was really meant for the life she had been asked to continue.

Too many confusing emotions, too many conflicting thoughts, that was the story of her life. Misao was never one to make plans and follow through. Her life had always been sporadic, she had always been impulsive. That was the way people can be when they go through most of their childhood alone. It was just another thing attributed to a turbulent past.

Some people who were working on the estate looked up as she drove down the long, winding driveway. A few recognized her and waved. Misao waved back, but she didn't smile. Neither did they.

Long ago, when she had first been brought to the Aoiya, Misao had been given the distinct impression that she was not welcome. She was an outsider, and intruder. She was someone who threatened the fates of those who had spent their entire lives on the estate. Many of the workers distrusted the girl who would hold their fates in her hands when she inherited the estate. Over the years, the hostility toward her dwindled, but there was very little affection. There had only ever been a handful of people on the estate that she had ever wanted affection from.

She drove passed some of the work houses--three large apartment-like buildings that served as homes to many of the workers of the Aoiya. Since the ranch estate was so large, and too far from any town or city to commute to on a daily basis, the workers took to calling the estate home. The estate catered to all the needs of the workers, as well as the guests. Trucks came from the city every week to delivery pounds upon pounds of groceries; there was a chapel in the hotel, and there was even an employed teacher in residence who taught the children of working families during the school years since many of the workers couldn't afford to put their children in bordering schools, and no bus would travel so far out of their way.

Misao had attempted to play with some of the children of the workers when she had come to the estate. That was back when she was still trying to cling to her fleeting childhood, despite the fact that she felt ages old. None of them would go near her, whether out of their own design or because their parents had warned against it. Misao had then attempted to play with some of the young socialite children who would vacation with their parents, but none of them would have anything to do with her either. She was beneath them.

In all her loneliness, in a world surrounded by adult rules and adult worlds, Misao had only ever had one friend her own age, but he traveled with his parents season to season, and never lingered on one ranch longer than a few months at a time. Misao missed him sorely when he was gone, but she made do. She always did. Misao, if only to be described in one word, was no better defined then _flexible_. She adapted to any situation and could bend to any force. That was a skill that came from growing up alone, and not knowing who you are.

She was nearing the hotel now. Misao could see the deep blue awning that covered the carpet leading from the curb of the drive to the door of the hotel itself. She could even faintly make out someone standing at the ready to open car doors and take luggage inside the air conditioned building. The closer she came to the hotel, the more dread began to rise in her.

For all the love she had for her grandfather, she just didn't feel up to a huge and akward welcome. It seemed every time she returned home, he did something well-meaning to make her feel welcome. It only made her feel embarrassed. In all honesty, Misao was not the kind of girl who could sit in the air conditioned hotel all afternoon and talk fashion while playing bridge. She was much more content to be out in the fields, in the heat of the day, working her wiry muscles and calloused hands.

Not feeling brave enough to enter the hotel yet, Misao took one of the branching paths on the drive and headed instead toward the stables. Her favorite place on the estate. If someone asked her why she loved the wooden structure so much, she would say with a secret smile that it was the smell.

It wasn't until she had come to the Aoiya that Misao had ever seen a real horse. She was scared of them in the beginning, the fact that they were so huge and threatening. Her grandfather had insisted that she learn to ride, though. All young socialites should know how to ride, he often told her. So Misao, in the hopes of pleasing him, swallowed her fear and began working around horses. That was when she outgrew her fear and discovered her passion for riding.

Misao parked her truck next to the stables. The large building was sporting a fresh coat of white paint with red trim. Misao left the cab of her truck, shucking the old leather jacket she wore that once belonged to her father, and walked towards the entrance. A few stable hands were milling around, some walking the horses, some feeding them, some mucking stalls. None of them gave her a second look as she strolled down the aisle. Whether they recognized her or not, Misao had no idea. Not that she minded either way.

Her attention was focused on a center stall. A smile broke over her face as a large black muzzle suddenly hung out of the side of the door. She stopped in front and reached out a hand, running tapered fingers over the velvety nose of the large beast. He snorted some, fixing her with a black-eyed like one she received from a shaking foal nine years ago.

"Hello Angel," she whispered softly, bringing up her other hand to caress her horse. She rubbed his ears, ran her palm down his smooth neck and tangled her fingers in his shaggy black mane. He hadn't changed much since her last visit to the estate over spring break, three months before. He frame was strong, all sinew and bone, a body built for speed. She had named him Angel because of his coat color, a solid ebony black apart from two large white spots on his elegant back. In her child's eye, she said that they looked like angel's wings, that he was a Pegasus-like horse.

He had been a gift for her thirteenth birthday.

"Oh sure!" a cheerful male voice called from behind her. "Say hello to the horse before me!"

Misao whirled and grinned from ear to ear a second before flinging herself forward into a pair of open arms. "Soujiro!" she squealed as he spun her around. "Why didn't you tell me you were here?!" Her tone was one of both accusation and delight.

He only grinned lazily at her, finally setting her on her feet. Soujiro was the kind of man who smiled easily and it did him justice, adding light to his blue-gray eyes despite the overlap of rusty hair that fell into his gaze. It only added to his rakishly handsome appearance.

"I wanted to surprise you," he explained. "I figured that you'd be happy to see me, and happy to not spend the summer alone amidst your grandfather's plans."

"You are a mind-reader!" She rose up on her tip-toes, which was no surprising feat since the young woman was only five feet tall, and kissed him on the corner of his mouth. "If that's not enough, you're my own personal savior, man!"

Soujiro only smiled at her once more. "Walk with me to the house? You know someone spotted you coming up the drive and has alerted Okina by now."

Misao sighed slightly, but let herself be led toward the hotel by her childhood companion. Though he had surpassed the height requirement of a thirteen-year-old boy in favor of taller stature and a stronger physique, he still had the mentality and unworldly sweetness of a young boy. That was why Misao had loved him so much when they were children. Soujiro never judged, he never thought of her as anything but Misao, not because of some plea or order, it was simply how he was. For her part, Misao had been the best friend she knew how.

Together they made it to the front doors of the hotel. The bellhop gave them both a distasteful look, seeing as how Soujiro was dressed in a stable-hand's attire and Misao was little better off in a tank top and jeans. Both of them smelled of the stables and neither of them paid any attention as they entered the building as regal as any century-old bloodline.

"Misao!" The thunderous voice of Okina filled the entire lobby as he made his way down the stairs and forward to embrace his granddaughter. Misao left Soujiro's side to meet her grandfather halfway for a warm hug.

"Hello Gramps," she said with a smile. "How are you?"

"Well, and you?" He loosened his hold to grasp her firmly by the shoulders and pull her far enough away to get a good look at her. "You look thin."

Indeed she did. Misao had lost nearly ten pounds since spring break, attributed to her lack of appetite. She blamed it on sickness, but it was really something else. After fidgeting a second, Misao stepped out of his scrutinizing view and grasped her wrist behind her back.

"The hotel looks immaculate, as always," she commented slowly. Talk of the hotel always diverted his attention. Misao knew this well.

"Of course!" he boomed. "I had to redecorate the interior of the lobby for the new season, but I think the bronze off-sets the white and silver of the paint..." His voice trailed off as Misao scanned around the room. There were strangers milling about, a few vaguely familiar employees. Omasu, one of Misao's closer friends at the Aoiya was behind the check-in desk and waved. Misao waved back.

"Well, come along girl!" her grandfather said, snapping her back to attention. "We'll get you settled in your room. Then you can ready for the party tonight."

"Party?" she asked, dreading it already.

"Of course, in celebration of your graduation. Go and freshen up, my pretty Misao," Okina laughed before bustling off to do something that hotel managers do. Misao watched him with a level gaze.

There was very little that the two of them had in common. For starters, Okina was tall and lanky, with a mane of white hair and a pointed gray beard. His eyes, beady and brown, gave him a scheming look, and his ambition was matched only by his determination to make the Aoiya the best.

Misao was petite in size and trim in build, her body honed by years of training in the martial arts--the only activity she underwent that her grandfather had frowned upon. Her hair was usually in one long blue-black plait that fell to her hips, an achievement of nearly no haircuts. Her eyes, huge and ocean blue, were a gift from her mother.

Their shared a few personality traits, such as short tempers and mile-high stubbornness, but those were more due to living together for so long. There was also a bond of great trust and great love between them, the product of having no one else in the world with whom to share such love.

"Come on," Soujiro laughed, coming up behind Misao. "I'll kidnap you."

"Really?" she asked sheepishly. She doubted her grandfather would miss her if she was late to 'her party', preferably late enough where she could get a good buzz going. She loved her grandfather, but she hated his friends. And his parties always had her bored to tears since none of the workers were permitted to attend.

Soujiro smiled languidly down at her. "Come on, before we get caught!" He gripped her hand in his own rougher one, leading her out of the hotel at a run. Misao, laughing aloud, let him tug her along behind him, away from what hell would come later and back out into the afternoon sun.

"So where are we going, my dashing kidnapper?" she asked slyly once they had reached the stables again.

Soujiro looked around, to make sure no one was listening to them. "To a place downtown I go for a drink sometimes. We can get buzzed, my graduation present to you."

"Soujiro!" she laughed, punching him in the arm. Shaking her head and rolling her eyes skyward, she simply asked "Your car or mine?"

"Yours," he said without a hint of stunted male pride. "Mine is in the shop."

Misao smiled, her heart giving a sigh of relief at her good fortune. "Let's ride!"

And they did. They drove from the long drive of the Aoiya down the long winding road that led past other such ranches, ones that breed horses or raised cattle. Land, fenced in pens, stretched as far as the eye could see on either side of the highway on which Misao drove. Finally, after half an hour of reminisced memories and laughter, Soujiro pointed out a road-side bar.

"It looks like a dive," Misao said with a furrowed brow. The bar was in disrepair; shutters falling from the windows, paint peeling from the side, and holes in the porch floorboards. Neon signs flashed brightly in the window, red letters flashing the logo for some beer or another, an open sigh, and one pronouncing the name of the bar. _The Longhorn_. Something about the name made her wary.

"Come on, 'Sao," Soujiro said with a half-smile, reverting to her old nickname. When he used such familiarity with her, Misao could deny him nothing, and he knew it.

With a sigh, she parked and got out of the driver's seat. "I fell I will regret this."

Soujiro only laughed and held the door open for her when they reached the bar.

The inside of the bar was as bad as the outside. The air was smoky and the tables were dirty. The people in there were hardened workers, not aspiring college kids like Misao was used to. Some of them nodded toward Soujiro, and he acknowledged them, but no one gave Misao a second look. She was used to that. She had always been forgettable.

When they reached the bar, Misao put her hands down for a second before retracting them. They were now coated in a sticky substance that she had no desire to know it's origins. Soujiro only smiled at her discomfort, taking a seat on the stool beside her and ordering two beers for them from the pretty bartender in a black cowboy hat who winked in return.

"Soujiro, we haven't seen you around here in days," she laughed when she came back over.

"Been working," he responded in the like, handing one semi-clean glass to Misao.

"And who's your friend?" she asked. If she actually cared, she hid it well, considering her eyes never moved from Soujiro. Misao was a little surprised, but kept silent.

"This is Misao," he said with an ease that comforted his out-of-place friend. "She's home for the summer."

"Welcome home," the bartender said with a dry tone.

"Thanks," Misao responded in kind, taking a long gulp of her drink. This was shaping out to be a bad idea. She didn't realize just how bad until the bar doors flew open and a man staggered inside, heading right for the bar. When he was a few feet away, Misao could smell the alcohol on him and wrinkled her nose.

"Randy, what are you doing here?" the bartender drawled, looking rather startled.

"I wannid ta see if ya'v changed yer min," he slurred brokenly, slamming both of his fists on the bar.

"No!" the bartender yelled. "And I want your sorry ass out of this bar, or else I'm callin' the cops!"

That's when 'Randy' reached into the front pocket of his overalls and drew out a colt .52. He cocked the hammer and pointed it at the bartender with a shaking hand, ignoring the look of horror written on most of the people in the bar. Some of the less brave ran for the exit already. One of the braver few grabbed at the phone at the end of the bar and dialed for help.

"We cudda bin 'appy Katie," Randy slurred.

"Randy," Katie the bartender pleaded, taking a hesitant step forward with her hand reached out. "Give me the gun. You don't want to do this!"

He didn't respond except to pull the trigger. Misao shrieked when a bullet hit the bartender in the chest and she crashed backwards into a shelf of bottles. The bar erupted in panic.

"Misao, get back!" Soujiro yelled at her as he and another of the braver patrons jumped on Randy, attempting to wrestle the gun from his hands.

The gun discharged two more times. The first struck a barstool, sending up a cloud of cheap foam form the cushion. The second hit Misao in the side as she attempted to jump the bar counter to get at Katie the bartender.

It was a pressure that hit her side first, knocking her usual graceful movements off balance and causing her to fall to the side, stumbling backwards and on to the floor. That's when she felt liquid pouring on to the material of her shirt. With a trembling hand, she touched the liquid and pulled her fingers away stained red. That's when she felt the pain.

Vaguely she heard shuffling, loud curses and drunken rambling. Her vision grew hazy with pain and blood loss as the puddle under her writhing form continued to grow. Fuzzily, she wondered is anyone got to Katie, and then she wondered if anyone would get to her.

As if an answer to her thoughts, she felt someone kneel beside her. _Soujiro?_ she thought briefly, then discarded it. Soujiro was apprehending the bad guy, and his presence didn't feel like her friend at all.

Tentative fingers brushed her side, eliciting a sharp stab of pain and a whimper from Misao. Then the person turned her on to her uninjured side and pressed down on her wound with a great amount of strength. Misao opened her mouth to scream in pain, but there was only a high pitched squeak in the back of her throat before she passed out. In the back of her mind, she heard sirens.

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A/N: Here we go, the first chapter of my new Aoshi/Misao story, I hope you have enjoyed it and I hope to update again in a few days. Please remember to review (shameless plug). Thanks again!


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